


Choices

by magistrainartis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Forced Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magistrainartis/pseuds/magistrainartis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris reveals to Hawke that his Master forced him on an elven slave. The repercussions will change both men's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris knows what's in store for the elven woman Danarius has drugged, stripped, and laid naked before him. But how will this woman react to their Master's plans?

There was no choice here, not for Fenris and not for the elven woman who lay naked amid the silk cushions. The woman’s pale skin betrayed her southern lineage; in the dim light, she seemed to glow against the black velvet on which she slept. Only a flush marked her cheeks -- she was no Dalish, whatever she’d been before her enslavement -- and her black curls had been loosed to lie tumbled about her face.

Fenris took in her body, which would soon be his prize and his burden. The woman’s bared breasts rose and fell with each breath, her rosy nipples peaked from their exposure to the air. Unlike most elves, this woman’s breasts appeared large enough to weigh heavy in Fenris’ palm, and her tapered waist swept gracefully into softly rounded hips. She was a kitchen slave, surely, who would enjoy regular meals rather than scrounging like a half-starved dog. She shifted, rubbing one slender foot along her calf. Did the potion leave her aroused, even in sleep? For both their sakes, Fenris hoped so.

A hand grasped Fenris’ naked shoulder and spun him around. His gasp of surprise was caught by his master’s mouth. When Danarius broke away from the kiss, Fenris lowered his head. “Master. Your slave awaits instruction.”

Danarius raised a bottle of oil and poured it over Fenris’ shoulders and chest. He turned the slave in circles as he worked the liquid into his skin, making him shine in the candlelight. “You fulfilled your purpose well yesterday, my wolf. Without your skills, those Qunari barbarians would have torn me apart and I would have been kept from the tome I’ve sought for so long.” More oil, this time trickled down his stomach and groin. Fenris stood quietly as his master knelt to rub the oil into his abdomen, thighs, and calves. Danarius stood, smiling, to slowly trickle the remaining oil over his slave’s erection. Reaching down, he began massaging Fenris’ sac.

“Do you like what you see, Fenris?” Danarius’ eyes flicked to the bed.

Fenris swallowed hard. “Yes, Master.”

Danarius continued gently kneading his slave’s smooth testicles, only pausing to move his hand up his shaft, over the head, and back down again. “She comes from fine stock. And I’m sure she’s beautiful to you. Do you want her?”

“Yes, Master.” Fenris knew better than to protest. Besides, a denial would have been a lie. He’d seen the woman around the estate. Only a few quick glances, but she’d noticed him. Granted, he was difficult to miss. The rumours of the powers his markings gave him made most other slaves steer away from him. She’d followed the group she’d been walking with, but had peeked up to look at him. He never hoped for anything, but that look had made Fenris briefly wonder what could have been, before he shut down such dangerous thoughts and reminded himself that his attractions -- whether to women or men -- were irrelevant.

“I’m glad she pleases you. Why don’t you wake her?”

Hoping to delay the moment, Fenris licked his lips and met Danarius’ eyes. “Shall I please you first, Master?”

Danarius’ face flushed with anger, and pain shot through Fenris as his markings flared. “Did I command you to please me, slave? Do as you’re told.”

His marks calmed now, Fenris nodded, relieved that at least the pain had softened his erection. He bowed his respect to his master before turning his attention to the woman on the bed. She still slept, but from her movements and incomprehensible murmurs, it was clear the potion was losing effect.

The carpets muffled Fenris' footsteps as he crossed to the bed. Not wanting to frighten the woman, he gently ran his hand along her outstretched arm. As the soothing motion woke her, it was clear that sleep still clouded the woman's mind. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to reconcile the luxurious fabric on which she lay with the pallet on which she usually slept. Then, a flash of happiness as she realized who was stroking her arm, replaced almost instantly by the realization that she and he were both naked in an unfamiliar room. The woman sat upright and grabbed for a coverlet, only to be halted by Danarius' command. "Stop. Your Master has decided you should be uncovered. Do you disobey?"

The woman snapped her head in Danarius' direction, her eyes wide. Fenris wondered if she had ever come into direct contact with their master. The woman bowed her head subserviently. "Master, please forgive me. I was confused."

Danarius smiled, his eyes glinting with enjoyment. "Be mindful not to become confused again, slave. I dislike disobedience." He nodded at Fenris. "Continue."

The woman's breathing quickened with her understanding. It was well known among the slaves that their master enjoyed men's bodies. Usually, this meant the female slaves were left alone. Sometimes they might be given to a male slave Danarius was pleased with, or taken forcibly by a visitor to the estate. However, only the young men were usually ordered to drink the potion that meant they'd spend the night serving their master's pleasure. Tonight, when the cook had brought her the bottle, the woman had been so shocked she could barely register the pity in the cook's face as she tipped the potion down the younger woman's throat. She remembered being led down strange corridors and into a bedchamber, but nothing more. Now the tattooed warrior her master kept as a pet knelt naked beside her, and her master's intentions were clear.

Fenris leaned down to move the woman's hands away from her breasts, where they lingered defensively. He caught her eye and hoped a look of caution was all she'd need to realize even this act of covering herself would irritate Danarius. Not knowing how to begin, Fenris stroked a stray curl from the woman's cheek. She drew in a quick breath; although anticipated, the physical contact made this dream a reality. As he held her gaze, Fenris saw only anger and helplessness. He hoped she couldn't see the same in his eyes.

Fenris lowered his head to the woman's neck. His mouth sought the ridge of her collarbone, where he began to leave a trail of soft, chaste kisses. She was rigid beneath him despite the potion's lingering effects, and although his touch was gentle, her every muscle resisted him.

Fenris was beginning to wonder whether Danarius would intervene when the chamber door was flung open. Hadriana burst inside, her eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted.

"Magister, forgive the interruption," she said, glancing at Fenris to sneer at his humiliation. "A situation with the Second Apprentice requires your immediate attention."

Danarius stood, glaring. "Unless he's made himself into an abomination, beg my forgiveness and leave this room."

Hadriana pursed her lips. "I didn't think he had the stomach for it, but it turns out he was playing in your workroom and...yes, he's an abomination."

Danarius stormed from the room, turning just long enough to hiss, "Don’t move," before slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, the woman grabbed a large cushion, laid it in her lap, and hugged it to her chest. The two elves sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing the right words.

The woman assessed the warrior, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hands in his lap. He was known for being stronger than a Qunari; she sensed that, although he obeyed his master’s orders without question, his strength ran deeper than most knew. She’d expected to be rutted like a beast in heat. Instead, he sat quietly, avoiding her eyes.

Fenris broke the silence. “I’m sorry. You...deserve better than this.” Raising his eyes, he was surprised to see that the woman was not huddled and trembling as he’d expected, but looking at him quizzically.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “Who are we to say what we deserve? I know how lucky I am. An owner who doesn’t like women? Most slave girls would kill for such fortune.”

Fenris frowned. “Do you know why you’re here? Danarius won’t take you, but he’ll have me take you. He’ll come back, likely force one or both of us to drink from that bottle,” he waved his hand at a vial waiting on a nearby stand, “and we won’t be able to help ourselves. And you’ll...you’ll….” Fenris trailed off, unable to say the words.

“I’ll become pregnant. He’s breeding us.” The words were harsh as they escaped her throat, but they were no less true for their coarseness. Fenris nodded miserably. The woman sighed, refusing to let the tears spill from her eyes.

Silence descended again. This time, she broke it. “I’m Elise. Lise. My name. It’s Lise.”

Fenris looked up again, faintly smiling. “Orlais?”

“My parents were Orlesian. We lived in an alienage in Val Royeaux when I was a baby, then they came to Minrathous looking for...I don’t know what they were looking for. They sold themselves into slavery within months. I stayed with them for a few years before being sold off. I’ve been in the kitchens here since I was a girl.” Lise tilted her head. “Is it true the Master gave you those markings? Do they really make you immortal?”

Fenris laughed once, sharply. “He cut these marks into me, but I don’t seem to be immortal. They just make me stronger. They let me do things most people can’t.” Fenris absently rubbed the marks on his hands. Hesitantly, Lise reached out. Fenris didn’t object when she took one of his hands in hers. She traced the markings up his arm, and onto his chest, up to where they ended on his chin.

“I heard Master named you Fenris when he bought you.” Fenris nodded. “I heard he took your mind and left you a drone, no different from a sword. But that’s not true.” Lise took in a deep breath and steeled herself. “I know you aren’t doing this by choice. But it doesn’t matter. When he gets back we’ll be in for it, and we have to see it through.”

In an act of sheer defiance, Fenris leaned in and softly kissed Lise’s mouth. “He won’t let us do that once it starts. But I wanted to. Just once.” Lise blushed, and a response was on her lips when the door crashed open.

Danarius marched to the bed and ripped the cushion from Lise’s lap. Ignoring her cry of fear, he instantly summoned invisible bindings. Within seconds, Lise lay flat on her back, her arms raised above her head and her legs spread wide. Fenris looked on with concern, but Lise could hardly blame him for refusing to intervene. Danarius ran his hands along the length of her body. When he reached the cleft between her legs, he paused to press the base of his palm against her mound. Lise held perfectly still, afraid that the slightest motion would be seen as an invitation.

However, her stillness clearly displeased her master, who reached for the vial beside the bed and unstopped it. He roughly pressed the glass to her lips; Lise had no choice but to drink the sweet liquid within. When half the contents had slipped down her throat, Danarius pulled the vial from Lise’s lips and held it to Fenris’. “Drink, wolf.” Fenris obeyed, swallowing the remaining liquid without a word.

As he waited for the potion to take effect, Danarius turned his attention back to Lise’s exposed flesh. His hands kneaded the slave’s breasts as his thumbs ran along her nipples, which stiffened at his touch. Satisfied, Danarius ran his hands along Lise’s waist until his palms rested on her abdomen. Lise felt a warmth emanate from Danarius’ hands as her master muttered a spell which stole quickly through her. Suddenly, her breasts felt heavy and missed a man’s touch; her clitoris swelled and beads of liquid moistened her labia; the need to be filled with a man’s body and a man’s seed overwhelmed her mind, banishing all thoughts of resistance.

Fenris watched his master prepare his mate; he felt his own body respond to the potion and to the sight of Lise reacting to Danarius’ ministrations. Nothing mattered now but the desire pulsing in his groin. His testicles felt heavy and his shaft rose proudly, ready to conquer the female lying helpless and writhing before him.

Danarius dipped an index finger between Lise’s legs, making her gasp in mixed shock and pleasure. Parting her lips, Danarius ran his finger along her clitoris to gather the juice lubricating the young woman’s sex. When he withdrew his finger, it gleamed with Lise’s need. Danarius turned to Fenris and pressed the finger to the slave’s lips. Fenris sucked willingly, allowing Lise’s musk to stoke his desperation. When his finger was clean, Danarius pulled back, enjoying Fenris’ moan as his master moved away from him. He’d enjoyed Fenris’ body only a few hours previously, and watching his enslaved warrior pant with lust aroused Danarius nearly as much as watching Fenris writhe beneath his own thrusting body.

With a glance and a movement of his head, Danarius gave Fenris permission to turn his attentions to Lise. Fenris’ breathing was ragged as he descended on the woman squirming against the velvet sheets. His lips closed around Lise’s right breast as he firmly massaged the left. Lise arched her back against him as Fenris’ tongue swirled around her areola before his lips closed tight around her nipple. Drawing the flesh into his mouth, Fenris suckled her, becoming harder at the knowledge that his seed would soon make these breasts swell heavy with milk. He pressed his hand to Lise’s flat abdomen, imagining how it would soon become soft and rounded, all because of the power within him. Lise rose to meet his touch, aching with the need to be filled.

Danarius raised his hand, and Lise’s wrists and ankles were freed. “Breed her, Fenris. Take her as a wolf takes its mate.” No further prompting was needed. Fenris turned Lise onto her stomach with one quick movement. Kneeling behind her, Fenris pulled the woman into his lap. Lise grabbed his hands and pressed them to her breasts as his shaft rubbed between her buttocks. Unable to hold himself back, Fenris pushed Lise off his lap; she landed on all fours and wantonly arched herself up to him.

Fenris groaned deep in his throat as he grasped Lise’s hips and, with one smooth motion, penetrated her fully, his sac coming to rest against her. Lise cried out, but Fenris couldn’t care whether she cried in pain or pleasure. He leaned over the whimpering woman to brush his flattened palms against her nipples; she gasped at the friction and responded by desperately grinding herself against the phallus moving within her. Refusing to allow her control over his pace, Fenris withdrew himself completely before slamming his cock to the hilt. Again and again Fenris rammed himself inside Lise’s warm, wet passage, his body now a pump designed only to spray his seed.

Before he could climax, Fenris felt his master’s naked body behind him. He paused, uncertain, before Danarius’ oiled fingers found his passage. Already stretched from their activities earlier that day, Fenris was quickly made ready for his master. He moaned as Danarius pressed his erection inside him and began a slow, deliberate thrust. Fenris’ body moved with his master’s; unable to hold himself inside Lise, Fenris turned the woman onto her back. His eyes flared with lust as he re-entered and began pumping in a steady rhythm set by the man inside him. In this position, Lise could feel every ridge of Fenris’ cock, could feel the catch and drag of his foreskin as it slid within her. She raised her legs high, spread her thighs so that Fenris could reach the deepest part of her, and could hold back no more.

“Please...please...please...Master,” Lise begged. “Please allow your slave to come inside me. Please give me his seed."

Danarius smiled and pressed his mouth to Fenris’ ear. “I am ready. Come, slave.”

As he felt his master’s shaft release inside him, Fenris drove himself into Lise’s depths and ground his hips against hers. With choked groans, the elves climaxed. Fenris’ entire being felt condensed to the seed pouring from him, and Lise’s body opened under him to receive it.

As the elves lay panting, Danarius rose from the bed, wiped himself with the coverlet, and pulled on his robe. “Fenris. Come with me to bathe. You share my bed tonight. Girl, lie here and let his seed take root. Your value just tripled, and I won’t have you spoiling my investment.”

Lise lay quiet, tears streaming from her eyes. The potion’s effects had vanished with her climax. Now the pleasure was over, the warrior was being taken from her, and she was left with nothing. Worse than nothing.

Fenris stood, shaken from the potion’s after-effects. “Master. While the water is drawn, perhaps I could position the woman? She’s already shown she can’t be trusted to remain still.”

Danaius nodded. “Be quick.”

When their master had left the room, Fenris turned to Lise. “I can’t stay. I’m so sorry, I can’t stay. This is all I can do.” Fenris opened a nearby cabinet, within which Lise could see rows on rows of tiny potion vials. “Most of these are sleep draughts or healing potions. But this one is for you, if you want it.” Fenris held up a blue vial no larger than Lise’s thumbnail. “If you want to take it, wait two or three weeks. That would be...less suspicious.” Lise’s eyes lit as she realized the hope that lay in that tiny bottle, a hope Fenris was risking his life to offer her. “It’s your decision. You deserve that, at the very least.” Fenris handed Lise the vial, which she clutched tight in her fist.

With one last apology, Fenris slipped out of the room. He barely heard Lise’s “Thank you,” as he closed the door to follow his master.

***

“Do you know what became of her?” Hawke held Fenris tight, the elf’s back pressed into his chest as they lay together before dawn.

“She ran away a few days later. It was the talk of the estate. I don’t know anything else. I hope she escaped Tevinter. I don’t know.” Fenris fell quiet. With each outpouring of his past, he felt a burden shift, but such revelations took an emotional toll. Hawke pressed his lips to the elf’s shoulder.

“If you want to search for her, we will. With the Inquisition as an ally, we can scour Thedas for word of her. Fenris, if she did have your child….”

Fenris turned to face Hawke. “Let me think about it?” Hawke nodded, and Fenris kissed him softly. “Thank you.” He slept within minutes, hearing only Hawke’s “I love you” as he drifted off. This decision could wait for another day.


	2. Bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Hawke rest before the plunge.

Fenris sank into the pool of steaming water, its warmth drawing the chill from his body. The constant drip of melting snow was the only sound. He’d come far enough from camp that he couldn’t hear the horses stamping in the morning’s frost, but Fenris knew that Hawke would easily track him here. Hawke would be thrilled to see the hot spring, but rather than returning to camp to share his find, Fenris had decided to let Hawke find the spring on his own. He needed a few minutes alone to prepare for the day ahead. 

It had been six months since he’d made his choice, six months since Hawke had found him searching for answers in the Chantry. Fenris was new to his faith; he didn’t know whether he believed the stories, but the Chantry offered a hope and forgiveness he desperately needed. On that day, Hawke had found Fenris kneeling before the statue of Andraste. He’d stood quietly at the back of the small chapel, knowing Fenris sensed his presence but allowing him space to finish his reflections. Fenris didn’t pray, exactly, but meditating in the candlelit chapel helped him sort through his often-overwhelming emotions. 

It had taken years for Fenris to reveal to Hawke the details of the sexual abuse he’d suffered at Danarius’ will. Telling him about the time he’d been forced on a kitchen slave - forced to breed her like a prized hound - was the most difficult revelation of all. He hadn’t known how Hawke would respond; even though Fenris had no choice in the matter, even though they’d both been drugged into oblivion, he’d raped and impregnated a woman. Lise. 

As always, Hawke responded to Fenris’ story with compassion rather than anger. For weeks after Hawke had offered to enlist the Inquisition in finding Lise, Fenris had struggled with the decision. In some ways, not knowing was the easiest path. That way, he could imagine a bright future for Lise, one in which she’d taken the potion he’d offered her that night, miscarried, escaped Tevinter, and now lived free and happy. Alternately, it was nearly as calming to think of her as long-dead, killed by slavers or the elements as she fled Tevinter. Finding Lise would likely erase these fantasies and could very likely add a serious complication to Fenris’ life. If she hadn’t taken the potion, hadn’t miscarried...it was difficult to let his mind travel that path. That path led to a child he’d never known and a life for Lise that could have been filled only with difficulties Fenris had not been there to temper. 

When he rose from Andraste’s feet, Fenris had decided. He turned and crossed the room quickly to wrap his arms around Hawke. Hawke returned the embrace, reaching up to stroke Fenris’ hair as the elf leaned his forehead to Hawke’s chest. Fenris closed his eyes and willed himself to draw strength and courage from the warrior holding him close. He looked into Hawke’s eyes, and Hawke leaned down to press a kiss on Fenris’ lips. No words were needed. The choice had been made.

Over the past few months, Hawke had managed Fenris’ anxiety by telling him of mistaken leads and vague whispers only after they’d been proven false. Hawke had debated for days before telling Fenris they may have an actual lead. An elven woman and her child were rumoured to be travelling with a band of Grey Wardens along Ferelden’s northern border. The agent’s report was incomplete, even descriptions of the woman were vague, but she was said to bear a slaver’s brand on her face. Fenris’ markings aside, Danarius hadn’t branded his slaves. If this was Lise, perhaps she’d been re-captured only to escape once again? Hawke had no idea, but he knew the information could not go ignored. 

Fenris had fallen quiet as Hawke told him the news, absently twisting the bloodstone wristband which had long replaced the cloth favour he’d taken from Hawke’s bed the first time they’d slept together. Eight years had passed since then, and Hawke had never given Fenris reason to distrust him. Hawke hadn’t pushed him for a decision; he’d just rested his hand on Fenris’ shoulder, kissed his forehead, and let the elf slip away to the Chantry.

Now they were camped an hour’s ride from the Grey Wardens’ outpost, near enough so the Wardens’ scouts would see they were only two men. If the Wardens were observant, or if they were fans of Varric’s writing, they might even know Hawke’s and Fenris’ identities. Still, they hadn’t been warned off, which Hawke took as an invitation to approach the camp. This was some relief; Hawke’s sister might be a Warden, but it was well-known that he had come out of the Fade with the Inquisitor while Warden Stroud had remained to die.

Now that the day had come, Fenris was glad to have found the hot spring. He silently thanked Andraste as he dipped his head beneath the water. As he came up and wiped the water from his eyes, Fenris saw Hawke approaching, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Relaxing like a king in your secret pool when I thought you’d be huddled in a cave somewhere? You’re changing on me, Fenris.” Hawke grinned as he shucked his clothing.

“My tastes have evolved. Varric would be thrilled to know I now prefer to do my brooding in warm water.” Fenris reached up to kiss Hawke as he joined him in the spring. “I figured you’d find me when you woke up.” 

Hawke sighed as he settled into the water. “Thank the Maker I did.” Fenris waited until Hawke had adjusted to the heat before slipping over to Hawke. The rocks formed a ledge on which Hawke sat, and Fenris settled between his lover’s legs to recline against his chest. The two relaxed in the water for a time, the only sounds their breathing and the still-steady drip from the melting snow. Fenris grasped Hawke’s hands in his own and drew Hawke’s arms around his waist.

“Think you’re ready?” Hawke asked, bending to kiss Fenris’ neck, just below his right ear. Fenris arched away, annoyed as usual that Hawke liked to aim for his ticklish spots.

“No. Absolutely not.” Fenris laid his hands flat on the water to feel the surface tension. “But we’re going. I have to know.”

Hawke laid a trail of kisses along Fenris’ neck - toward the spine this time, where his touch wouldn’t make the elf pull away. “I’m here. No matter what.”

“Hawke,” Fenris spun around to straddle Hawke’s lap. “If she did have a child...my child...please don’t think I’m asking you to be responsible. This is my problem.” 

Hawke frowned and took Fenris’ face in his hands. “We’ve been together how many years, and you still don’t know? There’s no your problem. There are only our problems. Besides, this isn’t a problem. It’s just something we might have to deal with. It doesn’t even have to be a bad thing. At any rate, we won’t know until we get there.” Hawke moved as if to stand, but Fenris pinned him beneath the water. 

“A few more minutes?” Fenris kissed Hawke deeply, his tongue pressing against his lover’s, demanding entry to his mouth. “I need this.”

Hawke needed no further invitation. He moved his hands from Fenris’ face to place his left hand firmly against the back of Fenris’ head, pressing it to his own. His right hand moved beneath the water to stroke his lover’s sex, which hardened beneath his touch. Fenris wrapped his arms around Hawke’s shoulders; he pulled the warrior to him, desperate for comfort and release. Knowing that Fenris couldn’t be penetrated without oils and patience, neither of which he possessed at the moment, Hawke pressed his erection to the elf’s. He grasped their cocks in a loose fist and began moving his hand slowly, rubbing their shafts against one another. Fenris groaned and rocked his hips. Moving back from the kiss, he let his head fall forward and allowed Hawke to guide his pleasure. Hawke’s strokes remained strong and sure, and every movement sent tremors through Fenris’ body. The anxiety of the past few weeks fell away in moments as his world shrank to include only himself, Hawke, and the water lapping against their bodies as they moved together. 

With a guttural groan, Hawke spilled his seed first. When he was spent, Hawke lifted Fenris easily to pin him against the rocks; his mouth descended warm and wet on Fenris’ erection, and within moments Fenris released himself into Hawke’s waiting mouth. Hawke swallowed his lover’s semen, quickly rinsed his mouth with spring water, and moved against Fenris for a deep, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, Hawke met Fenris’ eyes. 

“Ready?” Fenris nodded. No more words needed, the two men reached for their travelling cloaks and dried themselves quickly before dressing. Together, they headed for camp for a quick meal to prepare them for the short, difficult journey to follow. Both men were unaware that a black-haired elven woman raced to the Warden outpost ahead of them, her basket of gathered berries and wild onions dropped hastily in the bushes near the spring.


	3. Bonding

When she'd scaled the lookout post, Lise collapsed, gasping. From here, she could see clear to the horizon, including the wisps of smoke rising from a far-off campfire that could have been extinguished no more than a few minutes previous. She would see them coming, but she had little time to decide whether she'd be at camp when they arrived.

Lise clutched the stitch in her side and tried to reconcile the impossible sight she'd stumbled across. It had been a trying morning. The goat had gotten loose again before dawn and eaten half her garden before she’d heard it. She’d risen as quickly as possible so as not to wake the Warden snoring softly in her bed, and shooed the animal away. Even so, she’d lost all the blackberries and most of the carrots, cabbages, and onions. At least for that day, she would have to forage as when she’d first arrived to beg the Wardens for shelter in exchange for work. As if that hadn’t been enough for one morning, Tana had taken a mood and stomped off to the stables where she would spend most of the day working and, when she’d finished, curling up on a bale of hay to read whatever book she’d gotten her hands on lately.

They’d done well here, Lise and her daughter. The Grey Wardens’ greatest gift to Lise had been their kindness to Tana. Without ever suggesting she one day participate in the Joining, they’d taught the young maiden how to properly tend horses, how to hunt with a bow instead of relying only on snares and fishing lines, and, most importantly to Lise, how to read. With the skills she’d learned in their months with the Wardens, Tana had a chance in the world.

But that morning, Lise knew Tana would be no help to her. With a camp full of Wardens depending on her for their noon and evening meals, Lise had saddled a horse as the sun rose and hastened to a spot where she’d always been able to find vegetation in the past. Some wild onions would do for now, until she could arrange for a new recruit or two to help her find and carry more. She had not been disappointed; in fact, Lise filled her baskets so quickly that the morning was still young when she was ready to depart.

It had been so long since she’d been alone that Lise had paused before turning the horse back toward camp. The air was crisp and clear, the clouds drifted above her, and birds sang cheerfully. Lise felt almost guilty reveling in the moment. She knew too well that danger lay everywhere, but on this morning it was hard not to relax and enjoy her solitude. She remembered a special feature of this landscape from her foraging days: a small hot spring. Promising herself she wouldn’t allow the noon meal to be late, that she would stay no longer than a few moments, Lise set off for the promise of peace in the warm water.

She’d found anything but peace. Standing on the camp’s watchtower, Lise thanked the Maker she’d had the good sense to approach the spring cautiously. She heard the voices before she could see the men: two of them, talking quietly. On the slight chance they were Wardens, who meant her no harm and might welcome her to join them, she filled a small basket with the food she'd gathered and silently crept toward the spring. A small rocky overhang thick with bushes provided a perfect vantage point; Lise headed there as quietly as the spring breeze, paying no attention to the men in the pool except to ensure that they didn’t seem to be leaving.

Crouched in the brush, Lise pushed aside the greenery to see whether the men were Wardens, strangers, or enemies. Instead, she saw a ghost, her past personified. Lise clapped her hands to her mouth to suppress the shriek threatening to burst from her. It was impossible, but there was no doubt. No one in all of Thedas could be mistaken for the elf reclining against the human's chest. She'd refused to believe the stories of the elven warrior stalking slavers, often with the Champion of Kirkwall fighting alongside. The tales said this elf carried a sword as tall as himself and twice as heavy, but that such a sight paled compared to the white markings covering his body. They said the marks glowed like magic-lit lyrium just as the elf reached inside a man's chest and ripped out his beating heart. She'd insisted to Tana that the stories couldn't be true. She couldn't afford for them to be true.

Yet here he was. Known now by many names by those who feared his legend, but known to her only as Fenris.

Still, if not for his markings and shock-white hair, Lise wouldn't have recognized the elf in the pool as the same man she'd known so briefly, so terribly, at Danarius' estate. Although still lean, years of regular meals had hardened and strengthened Fenris' body. He still looked haunted, but his love for his companion was written in the way he rested against the man who could only be the famed Hawke. When they'd been forced to lie together twelve years prior, Lise had noted Fenris' strength but had also seen the helplessness that kept him leashed. Now, the worry in his face made her think that leash might not have been completely broken. But neither had Fenris.

The men's voices carried over the water, and the wind lifted their words to Lise's ears. She froze in fear. They were coming to the camp. They knew about her. They knew about Tana. Lise's mind caught fire. They wouldn't take her daughter. The Wardens wouldn't let them. _She_ wouldn’t let them. Lise crept from her hiding place and ran back to her horse as fast as she dared, her basket forgotten in the bushes.

Now, as she waited to see their horses darken the horizon, her terror hardened to steel resolve. Neither she nor Tana could afford to run from help, if help was about to be offered. Lise had already begun worrying about how soon the Wardens would notice Tana's flowering body. The Wardens were restless without a Blight, and the dreams of adventure many recruits had envisioned had given way to grim sameness. The boredom led many to seek diversion with Lise. Lise didn't dismiss Wardens' attentions, and took them to her bed when to do otherwise could have created trouble. She would not have Tana do the same - she had suffered and sacrificed too much to allow her daughter to live as she lived.

Tana would still be in the stables when Fenris and Hawke arrived, and it would be the first place they'd head. Lise decided to trust that they wouldn't be so brazen as to steal a girl in broad daylight from a camp filled with armed Wardens. When Fenris saw the girl, his reaction - to stay and seek Lise out or to run and never return - would tell Lise all she needed to decide whether she would speak with him.

So, her spine straight and her will gathered, Lise waited for her past to arrive at the gates.

***  
Fenris' horse chafed at his bit. The animal sensed his rider's tension, which had increased the closer they came to the wooden gates looming ahead. Fenris remained distracted while Hawke spoke congenially with the guard, who opened the gates in welcome even as his eyes widened with recognition. The camp bustled with Wardens training, running errands, and polishing little-used blades. Not a pair of eyes missed the visitors as they rode to the stables, and not a pair of lips was quiet once they'd passed.

"I don't know if they're happy or worried," Hawke said lightly. "I do tend to bring trouble with me. And you definitely look troublesome." Fenris appreciated the attempt to alleviate his tension, though neither his face nor manner suggested so. He'd need Hawke by day's end, no matter what they found here. Hawke continued chattering as they dismounted and led their horses inside the stable. Fenris glowered at the floor, now wishing that his partner had an off switch even despite Hawke’s good intentions. He looked up only when Hawke fell silent mid sentence. His face had paled, and he’d raised a hand to cover his mouth in shock. Confused, Fenris followed Hawke’s gaze to the stablehand. Then he understood.

The elven girl could have been no more than eleven or twelve years old. Her hair was black as shadow, but her olive skin showed no relation to her mother’s fair complexion. The girl’s emerald eyes were narrowed in suspicion at these strangers in her stable. Her stance and the proud lift of her jaw made her tiny body seemed immovable. Speechless, Hawke looked from this little warrior to Fenris, who’d gone pale and looked slightly sick. All doubts were swept away.

The girl scanned the two men with a shrewd eye; first Hawke, who, to her eyes, seemed like a knight from a fairy story, then Fenris. Within the seconds it took the girl to realize his markings were no Dalish _vallaslin_ , her entire body transformed: her eyes danced, her face broke into a wide smile, and her muscles were now tensed in excitement, not suspicion.

"You're Fenris! The Sword of Shartan!" she exclaimed before turning to Hawke. "That means you're The Champion of Kirkwall!" She raced over to take their horses' reins. "Are you here to help the Wardens? Is it demons? Is it _slavers_?" Her last word dripped poison, as if she considered a pride demon to be an annoying child compared to the evil of Tevinter slave traders.

Hawke smiled at the girl. "Not today, but you never know." Fenris was still struck speechless, and for once was thankful for Hawke's gift for filling silence. Hawke continued bantering with the girl as they removed the horses' saddles, " I've heard this 'Champion' title before, but the other one is new."

"He's The Sword of Shartan," she said, pointing to Fenris in excitement. "Shartan like in the old stories about the slave who helped Andraste. I'm named for Shartan. My name’s Shartana, since I'm a girl, but my mother calls me Tana." She gazed adoringly, if a little apprehensively, at Fenris. "All the escaped slaves call him that because he was a slave too, but he got away and now he kills the people who would take us back to Tevinter."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Back?'

"Oh, I wasn't a slave. My mother was though." She fell quiet for a moment, and Fenris' stomach clenched. His concern passed when Tana brightened again. "She doesn't like to talk about it." Tana busied herself preparing feedbags, and so missed the glance that passed between her heroes.

Hawke casually asked, "Is your father here at the camp?"

"No. He was a slave too, but I never met him."

Fenris could be terribly outnumbered by enemies twice his size and he'd remain as deadpan as if he were bantering in a tavern. But now he couldn't keep his hands from trembling or his stomach from knotting. It took all his courage to ask the girl, "Do you know where your mother is right now?"

Tana shrugged, and her face fell into a scowl so familiar that Hawke had to keep himself from laughing. "Check the kitchen, maybe. She cooks for the Wardens."

Fenris' brow furrowed, an exact mirror of the girl's. "Isn't your mother a Grey Warden herself?"

Tana snorted. "That’s a laugh. She'd never do the Joining. I think she should, but she always says 'They're all slaves and they don't know it'."

Hawke leaned to press his mouth to Fenris' ear. "Go find her. I'll stay here." Fenris nodded. Hawke squeezed his shoulder before returning to brush down the horses with Tana. Fenris could hear her rattling questions about Hawke's adventures as the smell of fresh bread led him to the kitchen and to the conversation that could change his path.

***  
Her back was turned to him; her head was lowered. The kitchen staff froze in their work as Fenris entered the room. Quietly, they exited, leaving the elves alone.

"Lise."

Fenris heard her sharp intake of breath, knew well the pain tightening her shoulders. She turned and met his eyes, unflinching. Fenris clenched his teeth at the sight of her face, marred now with a crimson brand. What was once likely a slaver's initials had healed into an ugly gash. Her eyes shone as brightly as they had years before, and were equally defiant.

"You won't take her." Lise's voice was harsh with tension.

Fenris approached her slowly, hoping she wouldn't take the armour that had become his second skin as a sign of aggression. "I'd never...I wouldn't..." Lost for words, he stood before her feeling as helpless as he had in the bedchamber where they'd last spoken. Fenris stared at the floor as she approached and laid her roughened, but still dainty hand on his chest. "I'm sorry,” he said. “For not finding you. For not trying."

Lise sighed. "I thought you'd be under Danarius' thumb until he got you killed. When Tana read to me from that dwarf's book, I nearly went mad. It was you - your name, your markings, your abilities. I tried not to get upset in front of her. She adores you and your Hawke. She was so excited by the chapter where you kill the horrible slave master and become Hawke's lover. I didn't know whether to cry or shout; I hardly wanted to let myself believe it was true. _Is_ it true? Did you kill him?"

"Yes. With my bare hands and the magic he seared into my flesh." Fenris' voice was cold as steel. "And now I'm as free as you are." Lise nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

"A few nights after we were...together...another cook found the potion you gave me," she said, her eyes distant. "I told them I'd stolen it. Danarius was so angry that he didn't even care I was pregnant. He beat me until I thought I'd die. Then he used magic to heat a brand and did this to me," she absently traced the gouges in her cheek. "I still don't know how I didn't miscarry. That night I stole some food and got out. So many slaves must have turned their heads so I could escape. After that...it was difficult.” Lise fell quiet, but Fenris understood completely.

“How long will you stay here?” he asked. Lise’s mouth tightened with worry.

“We’ll move on soon. Tana’s growing up.” Fenris understood the unspoken message in those words. He hoped Lise would let him help. But first, he wanted to get to know this woman, the mother of his child, the woman with whom, in another life, he might have been joined. He crossed the kitchen to a rack of rich breads and brought a loaf back to Lise. He broke it in two, held half out to her, and, when she took it, began the long story of his life after slavery.

***  
It was weeks before Fenris would tell Hawke details of the hours he spent with Lise that day. He loved Hawke with his entire heart, but Hawke simply couldn't understand the bond that had been forged between himself and Lise. That chain had been forged by cruelty and blood magic, and both bore the scars that they swore Tana wouldn't suffer.

Tana knew _The Tale of the Champion_ so well she could recite half of it. For her, her mother's suggestion that she might visit Hawke and Fenris, might even travel with them when she was older, was an incomprehensible joy. She barely registered Hawke’s suggestion that they might relocate to a cottage in a safe village near Kirkwall. Lise grabbed Hawke’s hand with gratitude, knowing she could repay this generosity only with her own time and her daughter’s. As they discussed possibilities and travel routes, Fenris wandered to the nearby training ring. Tana was practically vibrating with excitement as Fenris held out a wooden training sword. She grasped the hilt; he corrected her grip. Hawke and Lise looked on, hopeful.


End file.
